


Flu Season

by mischief5



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-30
Updated: 2010-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischief5/pseuds/mischief5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immortals do get sick but they don't die of it. They just wish they did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flu Season

  
Duncan huddled in one corner of the sofa wearing a pair of sweats, socks, a robe and two quilts. Miserable and feverish, he was thirsty, out of orange juice, could barely breathe, and his stomach felt like it had been scraped raw. His head was pounding like the Edinburgh Tattoo and he really, really wanted to die. The lift rattled just as he sneezed and his sword fell to the floor.

Fuck it. They could have his head. He coughed, barking like a seal.

"That doesn't sound good."

He looked up to see Joe Dawson standing over him. "Go away."

"No can do. I have now seen everything. An Immortal with the flu."

Goddamn bastard didn't have to sound so bloody cheerful. "Fuck you."

"Maybe later. Man, you reek. When was the last time you showered? And this place is a wreck. Besides, I brought you a few things."

"Like whad?"

Joe set a bag down on the coffee table. "We got your o.j. We got homemade chicken soup (still warm, by the way); we got Nyquil, and plenty of it, and more tissues. And while I'm here, I'll make you a hot toddy and get your scroungy ass in the shower."

"Dank you bery much, Mudder Dawson."

"Least I could do."

"Least you could do was do keep dis do yourself. Achoo!"

"Hey, pal, if you think this ain't going in your Chronicles, think again."

"Do hell wid dat! You gabe me dis flu! Dis is all your fauld."

"My fault? No way, Mac. I got _my_ flu shot this year. It's you Immortals who think you're immortal."

"Oh, bery funny."

Joe grinned. "I've been waitin' years to say that."

"So if you didn't gibe me dis...?"

"Methos."

"Whad?"

"Sick as a dog. I'm headin' over there next."

Damn the man! He was practically gloating. "Dawson..."

"Just a little private theory of mine."

"Go away!"

The grin widened, showing teeth. "Have some soup."


End file.
